An Unwanted Bug
by PenWriterPen
Summary: Alicia rides in an elevator, recalling the past events until she finds herself standing at his door, waiting for a right moment to ring a bell. Alicia's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**An Unwanted Bug**

_Alicia rides in an elevator, recalling the past events until she finds herself standing at his door, waiting for a right moment to ring a bell. _

_Dedication: To all the wonderful A/W shippers, and especially to all beautiful Georgetowners at The Good Wife FanForum. Love being on the A/W ship with you.  
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><p>In the elevator she pressed eighth floor button. As the door closed she rubbed her palms together nervously, noticing they were sweaty. She kept telling herself there was no need for nervousness since they were friends. However, somehow "just friends" theory never seemed to sustain with them.<p>

After things had ended between, they had troubles leaving the stage of avoiding each other, saying as little as possible, trying not to make things awkward. But no matter how much they tried it seemed that awkwardness was the main theme of their encounters. It was rather ironic how things improved between them when the grand jury investigation against him was set in motion.

It started with him asking her for advice about hiring a lawyer, even though leaving out the reason why he needed one, and she was glad he came to her, yet still worried why he needed such an advice.

"It's not anything. I just don't want to make life more complicated." That was his explanation and she dared not to bore in him. She had no right. She had given that right when she said it was too much, hadn't she?

If things between them were what they used to be, like back then at Georgetown, she smiled inwardly at the memories, or before they had given into the extended one hour good timing, when they talked about nothing and everything, she had been sure he would have given her more proper explanation. Suddenly, there was a wall between them, stopping them to communicate openly with one another. Who exactly built that wall she did not know. Was it her doing or was it his? Or was a silent mutual agreement?

She found out from Diane about his potential indictment. At the time she had no clue how serious things were. No one told her anything. _He_ didn't tell her anything. And sadly, to her own acknowledgement, she didn't ask many questions either.

"Our expectation is he will be indicted within the next two days. Felony bribery… three to seven years," Diane delivered and she was lost for words. She was equally lost for words when she basically ran to court to see him. When he saw her and walked towards her, his eyes spoke an untold story, a story she couldn't afford to read. Her heart was racing, she tried so hard to come up with something meaningful to say but words couldn't leave her lips.

"I'm sorry," he said first. His eyes were apologetic as he looked up into her face. _He_ was the one apologizing although she knew way too well apology should be on her end.

His voice was as sincere as during the times when he had her pinned against the wall of the foyer, his eyes staring at her intently, or when he had gently pushed her into the soft cushions on his couch as he apologized for verbally attacking her in the office earlier in the day to make their act as convincing as possible. His _"I'm sorry"_ was always honest, sometimes loud and clear, sometimes verbalized in a mere whisper, sometimes stuck in his throat when she bit his bottom lip to show him it was okay, that she understood it was merely an act they agreed on, but nevertheless honest.

"I want to help. With what I know about the State's Attorney," she offered. She was confident when she uttered those words but when she thought them through she realized things weren't as simple as she wanted them to be. Exposing Peter to help him was something she was willing to do. That was her initial thought. However, Peter was her husband, estranged husband, yes, but her husband nonetheless and for some reason she felt strong sense of loyalty to him. And she knew way to well what it was. The kids.

She excused herself when she got the call from Eli, one call too many from this child trapped in a man's body. "I have to go, Eli," she hung up without thinking, still hearing Eli's disapproval of her dismissal on the other side of the line, when she saw him nearing her again.

"You don't have to do this," he said as he stopped inches away from her. She arched an eyebrow, indicating she wasn't sure what he was referring to.

"I-I don't want you to put Peter under the bus for me." She was confused. Why not, was the first thing that came to her mind. He noticed her confusion.

"He's the father of _your_ children." At first she hadn't been sure what he meant by it but it must have been his way of saying, "I will not be the one who hurts your kids". He was giving her a way out. Was the confliction about revealing things regarding Peter written all over her face or did he just know her so well? She knew it was the latter.

"But thank you for offering." He gave her a slight smile, then joined Elsbeth and Diane who were already discussing further strategy for grand jury, while she got another call from Eli.

In the end, it didn't matter that all of the testimonies on his behalf, her included, brought up Peter Florrick's name the way they agreed.

Disciplinary Board was looking into disbarring him and he decided to take six months suspension. Not once she thought he deserved to be deprived of practicing law, his passion. Every time she had a privilege sitting with him as his second chair, she marveled at his wit and cleverness as well as his confidence and devotion in representing a client. She couldn't imagine not hearing his determined words, words that owned the court room each time they were uttered, words that always formed the most cogent argumentations. Except for that one time, "We believe it's the very foundation of our judicial system as promulgated by our founding fathers that comprehensiveness be chosen over... the opposite." Even though giggles filled the court room at his argumentation, why the reading of the whole transcript was needed, Judge Morris still granted him his request. She joined the giggles but still admired his persuasive way with judges who rarely denied his motions.

"I did wrong. I should face the consequences," he concluded simply. He made peace with the given options and she couldn't help but being amazed by the way he took responsibility for his past mistakes. In that moment she realized just how much he kept surprising her. Every thought, every expectation she ever had of him, he exceeded them all.

She was the one, who waited with him for the elevator which took him away from his own firm for six months. They joked about him writing a rock opera and it would have been funny if it hadn't been for the unfortunate circumstances.

"Will, if you ever need anything…" She squeezed the cup she was holding but wanting to squeeze his hand instead. She knew he deserved more than a few fleeting words. She should have hugged him. She wanted to. However, her hands kept grasping the cup and her body remained motionless.

"I'm good. But thanks." Elevator door opened, then closed and she felt alone for herself and for him.

First week after his suspension became official she hadn't seen him at all. She was spending in Diane's office more time than her own due to fact Diane often needed her opinion on cases strategies, which she appreciated, but no matter how flattering it was to see Diane trusting her with important questions, it didn't outweigh the fact how difficult it was coming past his office and not seeing him sitting behind his desk or in his massive leather chair like any other day.

She did talk to him over the phone though. It was her turn who needed an advice. When she heard a female voice in the background while talking to him, she felt pang in her stomach. She ignored it and stepped on it like on an unwanted bug, pretending such feeling has no place in her mind, let alone her heart.

She almost forgot how good he looked in casual clothes until she saw him back in the office a week later, dressed in dark blue jeans and leather jacket. They ran into each other on the hallway. Smiley "Hi" were exchanged on both parts and hers, "It's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back. Well, it's not quite like before but still…"

She wondered if he remembered they said almost the same thing to each other over a year ago, only in reversed roles. The way his lips curved in a tiny regretful smile, she knew he remembered it, too.

"I'll see you around," she said over her shoulder as she passed him by, then slipping into the conference room where a group of junior associates was already waiting on her. Even though technically speaking he wasn't back in the saddle she was truly grateful to see him and his reassuring face.

He presented his well-known reassuring behavior a few weeks later when she was already unnerved and quite frankly annoyed by Diane's favoritism of first year associate Caitlin.

"Actually, you're going to court today, aren't you, Alicia?" He spoke up in front of everyone, making sure everybody knew that dealing with devious Mr. Sweeney was her case. She admired how authoritative his voice was without him even needing to raise it. Everybody took notice at his words and all she could do was smile in return with confirmation, "Yes, Caitlin and I."

She didn't think twice of thanking him for stepping up for her. She knew there were so many things she should have thanked him for but at the time she hoped simple _"Thank you"_ would show him just how much she appreciated his gesture. She walked to him, eyed him as he stood composed with his hands crossed until she leaned to his ear and whispered. It was a brief moment. She was close. Too close. She could smell his cologne, the smell that suited him perfectly. The smell she loved but could never allow herself to miss.

If one would ask her why she had whispered _"Thank you"_ instead of saying it out loud later that day, when they were in his office discussing a client perjuring himself and she experienced the luxury of sitting in his chair, only the most honest part of her would have the courage to answer she wanted to stir something in him, see if he still reacted to her closeness. It was selfish. She knew. But the way he slightly leaned his head into her whisper, the bold, needy, selfish part of her got satisfied.

She was confident, almost ruthless while questioning Isobel Swift, a woman Mr. Sweeney supposedly sexually harassed. She was defending her client but going off on a woman who might as well be Mr. Sweeney's victim, she felt a bit disgusted with herself. Still, she did not ease her verbal attack, not until she saw his face in the court room which caused her to pause. When he gave her an approving nod, making her feel better about herself, she continued questioning the witness.

After Mr. Sweeney's case she rarely saw him. And when she did, the only words they said to each other were polite "Hey" or "Bye". Something changed, no longer were they colleagues who discussed cases with lightheartedness, and she didn't know what caused the change. Or she _did_ know but just didn't want to admit _that_ was the reason. She convinced herself the reason was her being swamped with cases, while he had his hands full dealing with manipulative triplets in the form of David Lee, Julius Cain and Eli Gold who all felt entitled to claim his position in the firm.

After separation from Peter she really perfected herself in the art of pretending, convincing she didn't feel the things she truly felt. It came to a point she no longer knew what the truth was and what was a lie. This story repeated when she saw him giving Tammy a welcome kiss on the cheek. There was another familiar pang, the same pang she felt whenever Celeste was mentioned during their time together. She crushed the feeling. It was _just_ another bug that was being stepped on.

"It wasn't over between Will and I when I left for London. Then you slept with him and it was over," Tammy proclaimed. She didn't know what to do with that information. One part of her was intrigued to ask him if she was the reason he ended things with second of Linnata sisters. But then again she didn't need to ask him, the other part of her already knew the answer.

His "I'm not interested in anyone else" had been more telling and more truthful than anything else. She had ignored his words then just as much she was ignoring unwelcomed feelings now. However, there was occasional but persistent intruder that invaded her mind, making her wonder what else he would have told her then if she had agreed to talk about his "_Love you"_ slip.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open revealing eighth floor, bringing her out of her thoughts. Moments later she was standing at his door, waiting for a right moment to ring a bell. She didn't know why she hesitated ringing. After all she was there to discuss a case with him.

Earlier today when she had tried to talk to him about his strategy on Muhney's case, a case she had been assigned after his suspension, he had been just about to leave his office.

"Will, do you have a minute?" she asked, realizing that was the longest sentence she has said to him in last few weeks.

"Actually," he looked at his watch, "I'm bit in a hurry."

"Is something wrong?" his question was colored with surprise as well as with hidden concern. He probably didn't expect her to show up at his office after weeks of them being totally disconnected from one another.

"No, everything is fine." Her response was quick, a nervous babble. "I-I just, um-" This didn't use to be so hard. "I wanted to talk to you about the defense strategy you used on Muhney's case."

"Muhney's case?" he searched his memory. "Oh, right. That is a tough one."

"You can say that again," she said with a smiley sigh and for the first time in a long time it seemed things were relaxed between them. "Something came up last minute and I could really use your help."

"How important is?"

"It's pretty important."

He glanced at his watch again. She couldn't help but wonder where he was so eager to be. Whenever she needed him for an advice, he always made room in his crowded schedule for her questions, even dismissing other people just to make sure she got what she needed. As childish and selfish as it sounded, realizing that he was not willing to put everything on hold for her like before, bothered her more than she was ready to admit.

"I see. The thing is, um, I was just about to head out. I have to be somewhere in 30 minutes."

Even though it felt as if he was apologizing for not having the time for her, she noticed he made sure he didn't give away where he was going. Usually he wouldn't have concealed from her where he had been headed, whether it was court, a lunch with a potential client or some other business. Judging by the way how he used general explanation, she concluded that his early office leave was of a personal nature. She shouldn't have cared where he was headed but for some reason she did.

"I don't intend of coming back to the office. But you can stop by my place later today and we can discuss the strategy if you like. I believe I have some other notes at home about Muhney's case you might find useful," he offered to her surprise.

"Yeah, that'd be great." She didn't mull over if that was a good idea. She really needed his help, the case was eating her alive, she was running out of ideas how to save her client, so to hell with her worrying about everything, especially, her being alone with him in his apartment again.

"Let's say about ninish?" he suggested.

"Ninish it is," she agreed.

"Good." He gave her one of his tiny smiles as she watched him rush to catch an elevator that was about to close.

She inhaled deeply, then rang the bell.

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><p><em>Thanks to all who will read my first attempt at writing,<em>

_PenWriterPen_


	2. Chapter 2

__Dedication: To all wonderful A/W shippers, and especially to all beautiful Georgetowners at The Good Wife FanForum. Love being on the A/W ship with you._  
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><p>When the door opened, she drew in a quick breath as she took the sight of him in. She expected to see him wearing a suit, his usual attire, which was rather unfounded expectation since she was meeting him at home. Instead a dark linen v-neck sweater hung beautifully on his shoulders and form fitting dark blue jeans hugged his sculptured legs.<p>

"Hi," she said when she moved her eyes from his body to his face, hoping he didn't noticed her examining him from head to toe in less than discreet manner.

"Hey," he said with a smile, "Come on in." He stood to the side to let her through.

"I'm sorry for today. I had this thing-" he started explaining as they moved through hallway to the living room area.

"No, it's alright," she interrupted him, not wanting to make him feel as if he had to apologize to her. Even though she wanted to hear about this _thing_ of his, where he had spent his afternoon, she decided it was none of her business asking him about his whereabouts.

"Tough day at the office?" he asked, a type of question a husband would ask a wife, when she came home after a long day. She found his voice genuinely concerned, not just obligatorily polite in order to make common small talk.

"It was… interesting," she found the right word. She didn't want to complain, especially not to him. She got to do what he probably craved to do every single day of his suspension. She knew what it meant being a lawyer at successful firm like Lockhart & Gardner. He knew it, too. Busy, hectic days were part of their lives.

"I'm sorry for bothering you at home-" He could be doing anything else than helping her.

"You don't bot-" the sound of his Blackberry vibrating against the table drew the focus of his eyes and interrupted his intended thought.

"Excuse me," he said apologetically as he looked at phone's display. "It won't take long. Make yourself comfortable," he added as he slipped down the corridor.

She watched him as he disappeared into his bedroom, trying not to think of all the times she had disappeared with him in that room. She could hear him answering the call with very cheerful "Hi", too cheerful for her taste, before he closed the door behind him.

She took of her coat and put it on the couch that sat in the middle of the room. She surveyed the apartment. Almost every part of it held particle of their history, floating her mind with memories, memories she managed to bury in last months.

She had always wondered how his apartment looked like, long before she had actually winded up at his place. When she had seen it for the first time, she fell in love with it. It was spacious, bright, welcoming, masculine, and had him written all over it. Until now she didn't want to admit that the latter was the reason why she loved it so much.

Collection of baseballs on one shelf, law books on the other, guitar in the corner, the drinks cabinet and big flat screen TV, that usually played old recordings of baseball games, like it did now.

She sat down on the couch, her eyes drawn to the grand piano that stood by the window. When she had come to his place for the first time and he had given her a tour of the apartment, she had been surprised seeing big piano standing in the living room.

"Since when do you play a piano?" she had asked surprised. She hadn't remembered he had known how to play it at Georgetown, she had only remembered him being enthusiastic about playing a guitar.

"I don't. I always wanted to learn how to play it and when I was buying the apartment, former owner offered the piano at a reasonable price… so I bought it with this place," he had explained.

"It's magnificent," she had marveled at the black beauty in front of her as she ran her fingers over the shiny black wood. When she had looked back at him, he had been smiling.

"What?" she had asked amused.

"You should play something," he had said, leaning on the edge of the armchair.

"Really? You want me to play? Believe me. You don't want to hear that."

"I do. Just try." She had loved how he had encouraged her to try.

"Some other day maybe," she had said easily, "Now I would much rather do something else."

"And what is that?" he had grinned boyishly.

She had said nothing else as she neared him and kissed him without hesitation.

"This," she had purred into his ear, "Can piano wait?"

"Yeah, it can," he had smiled into her mouth before capturing his lips with hers.

She brought herself out her thoughts when she heard the door of his bedroom opening.

"Sorry for waiting," he said with a smile.

"No problem. Good call?" she couldn't help asking when his obvious good mood couldn't go unnoticed.

"Yes," he gave her a short but cheery reply.

His answers were as short as possible. She felt as if he was one of the witnesses she needed to prep, advising them to keep their answers short, so nothing was given away. He wasn't letting her in his space and she knew she had no right asking him for it.

"So what can I get you to drink?" he asked as he moved to the kitchen.

"Water, please."

"Are you sure?" he narrowed his eyebrows skeptically, probably surprised at her choice.

"I'm driving," she replied, delivering the most in handy explanation.

Whenever she had been at his place, she would have had a glass of wine. Even if she hadn't spent the night and she had needed to drive home, by the time she had needed to leave, one glass of wine would have disappeared from her blood and would have been replaced by hours of toe-curling pleasure.

She couldn't tell him that the reason she refused wine was because wine reminded her of all the nights she had spent with him in this very apartment.

"Okay. Water it is." He went to refrigerator, grabbed a bottled water for her and a bier for himself.

"Here you go," he handed her a bottle.

"Thank you."

"Alan Muhney's case, you said, right?" He sat in the armchair that was placed next to the couch. She couldn't fail to notice he kept distance between them. It bothered her.

"Yes," she confirmed.

She looked at him. He leaned back in the armchair and put his legs on the coffee table. He had several day old scruff on his face, messy hair and deep sultry eyes, how Owen described them, that were now going through the notes he had made. She found him extremely handsome, she always had. From the first time they had met and up until now, she never had a problem with his looks.

"So, our biggest problem is-" he said.

"Alan has no alibi, at least no-one can confirm it, and his fingerprints are on the murder weapon," she replied.

"You think he's guilty?" he asked, still looking at his notes.

"No, I don't. Everything speaks against him but- I don't know… I believe him. There's something about his friend Evan, though, that's just rubs me the wrong way."

"I agree. If I were a betting man, I'd say he was the one who killed Meg. Hasn't Kalinda found something?"

"Not yet."

Her phone rang, "Speaking of Kalinda-"

"Yes, Kalinda, what's up?" she answered.

"Check your e-mail, I got something for you," Kalinda said on the other side of the phone.

"What?"

"You'll see," Kalinda replied in her mysterious way, "It's good."

"Okay, thanks Kalinda," she hung up and looked at him. "Kalinda found something but I need to check my e-mail."

"Sure," he said and went looking for his laptop. When he returned, he placed it in front of her and this time he lowered himself beside her on the couch. Immediately she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He sat close, so close that their knees touched. The slight physical connection shot familiar electric wave through her body. She knew she should back away but she didn't. And neither did he.

"It's an e-mail sent from Meg to Evan," she said, taking a deep breath, trying to regain her focus.

They started reading it and soon they realized it was a rejection e-mail in which Meg rejected Evan's advances.

"Ouch, these are some hurtful things written in here," he said, when they read Meg wasn't exactly picky with using certain words to make her point, "Not good for male's ego."

"I asked Alan if there was a possibility Evan was interested in Meg. He said that Evan would never go after his girlfriend."

"A weird life we lead. You think you know a person and then… you realize just how wrong you were about them."

She nodded. "Yeah- But to kill a person for being rejected-"

"When you're in love-" he paused. Her eyes locked with his and her heart gave and extra beat at the glitter in his gaze.

"Anyway, I think you should call Evan on the stand again. He's cocky. I think he wants to say he did it," he shifted his eyes from her to the laptop's screen.

"You think? Why would he admit to murder?"

"He's twisted, I think he wants everyone, espeacially Alan, to know what he did to Meg."

"Okay."

"You will need to pressure him, hit him hard, because, sadly, that's truly all you have."

"You think it will pan out?" she wasn't sure she could lure the confession out of Evan.

"It will. It's not gonna be easy but if you quote certain parts of this e-mail, if you remind him of every terrible word she had wrote to him, if you rile him up, I'm sure he will snap."

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will."

She shooked her head. She truly wasn't sure she was up for this.

"Hey," he said.

She looked up at his face. His eyes were reassuring and kind, as though he could sense her doubts. "You can do this."

She nodded, "Alright. Thank you, Will."

"Besides if nothing else works you can still use your sweet charm," he said as he leaned back on the sofa, "I heard once that might help."

"My sweet charm? What are you-"

He looked at her knowingly. A fond smile softened his masculine features that stirred tenderness within her.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she replied, catching her voice being flirtatious.

"Professor McKinley," they said at the same time.

"I thought we argued pretty well," she smiled.

"Me too."

Hearing the teasing tone in his voice, she leaned back against the sofa cushion, like he did moments ago, and relaxed next to him.

"What did he say to us?" she asked, not wanting for this moment, which was the longest moment of normality and stability between them in weeks, to end.

"If I remember correctly he said something like: Ms. Cavanaugh, Mr. Gardner", he tried to remember words they both had heard almost twenty years ago as he imitated Professor McKinley with a deep voice. "I'm speechless. Your arguments are completely invalid. If you think that your cute, sweet charm will be enough to win you cases at court, you are deeply mistaken. I pity the fools who will be crazy enough to hire you two to represent them."

She laughed out loud. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed whole-heartedly. "You have a good memory."

"It's not hard to remember true words of wisdom."

"You think now would be the right time to call him and tell him you own a firm?"

"Let's call him after my suspension is over, okay?" he laughed, taking another sip of beer.

"I'm still proud he thought we had cute, sweet charm going on."

"That's what you made out of his speech?"

"And you didn't?"

"Yeah, I did," he admitted smilingly. They faced each other and silence, that waited to be broken, filled the room.

"We were a good team," he said with a sigh after a while.

"We still are," she replied, realizing just how much she missed talking and being with him.

"Ye-" His voice died and his eyes moved from her face to TV screen as breaking news interrupted the game.

"… This year's campaign race for governor hasn't even started and the things are already heating up. Rumor has it that Peter Florrick, the current State's Attorney of Cook Countey, maybe best known for his involvement in a scandal involving a prostitution service a few years ago, will be running for governor of Illinois. As for what he plans to announce at a press conference next week. However, his lips are sealed. And his friends in the Democratic Party are staying silent in solidarity," reported Chicago News Channel. "If Peter Florrick indeed decides to run for governor, one thing is for certain, pre-election confrontations will be everything but dull…"

"So, it's a done deal. Peter is going to run for governor?" he broke the silence.

"He is."

"He is an ambitious fellow."

"He always has been," she sighed.

"Will you be there?" She flinched by his words. "At the press conference, I mean," he clarified.

She gulped. She was caught off guard. Only Peter, the kids and Eli knew about her being by Peter at the press conference. They agreed to keep it a secret, although she didn't know exactly why the secrecy was needed since the public still believed, or at least so she thought, Peter and herself still formed a solid married couple.

"It is just better this way. Just don't tell anyone," was Eli's response when she asked him about it. "It's for the surprise affect," Eli added, gesturing with his hands in a theatrical manner.

Not that she would want to scream from the top of the roof she will support Peter again, that was never her style, but still. It seemed her life was filled with secrets and now he was asking her point blank about one of those secrets.

She couldn't and didn't want to lie to him, no matter what Eli asked of her. Just seeing that carefully hopeful look in his eyes was already bad enough. The same look he had had when he had came to her office after their first kiss in fifteen years.

"But you came back," he had said then, no sign of sultry in his eyes, just hopelessness and regret for their bad timing.

"I know. It was wrong," she had replied. It had been wrong, she had been married, but it had also felt so right, if she had only been allowed to feel it.

"Yes," her response was hushed, almost ashamed. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, knowing that this simple _Yes_ would probably crush the well-known look in his eyes.

"He's lucky to have your support," he replied gently, but his voice couldn't hide the disappointment. She took all of her might and finally brought her eyes to his. She was right. She crushed him.

"I guess I'm already talking with future Mrs. Governor."

"You're not. There are no guarantees he'll win," she replied, realizing how contradictory her words sounded to the words she had said to Peter when she had encouraged him to enter the campaign. She had told Peter to run because she believed he would be a good governor, better than Mike Kresteva at least, she had given him hope and her support to win the election.

Now, when talking to him, she was playing a different tune. Was she just trying to be modest or did she start doubting in Peter's win and in the arrangement to which she agreed? How could Peter even win with a wife, who was just as double-faced as he was, by his side?

"He will. With you on his arm… he's invincible," he said as he rose from the couch. Distance fell between them again and she regretted no longer feeling the touch of his knee against hers.

"You give me too much credit."

"I guess that's the time when you demanding a raise and wanting to buy your old house come in," his voice was a bit louder but still filled with disappointment. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it more tousled than before.

"It's not how you think," she tried to explain.

"And what do I think?" He had an expression of a poker player on his face. She couldn't read him even if her life depended on it.

"Will, I-I… I need you to know that the time we spent together-" What was she doing? Why was she saying that?

"No, Alicia. No," he interrupted her.

"You don't get to this. You don't get to mention _our_ time together in the same breath as admitting you are with him… again." His poker face was lost and was replaced with frustration.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" she shot back.

"Aren't you?" he asked disbelieved.

No, that's not what she was doing, she wanted to say. But how could she explain to him when she wasn't sure herself what she was getting herself into.

"It's complicated," she replied. She was ashamed and she couldn't help but to lower her eyes. She couldn't see just how disappointed he was in her. Not as a bitter ex-lover, who would hold a grudge, but as a true friend who always pictured and wished so much more for her than the choices she had made.

"It always is with you."

She watched him move to the window. He leaned against the wall and looked into the night as he spoke, "You know, actually, um- It's a good thing the news came up and that we're having this conversation because now… now I can finally see-" he stopped.

"See what?" she wanted to know, she stood up and neared him.

"It doesn't matter," he shrugged with his shoulders as he turned around to face her.

"Will-"

Did he think he was just a diversion for her? That it was just sex? That she felt nothing but lust whenever he touched her? That she was using him as a safety net until she decided it's time to step into the shoes of a good wife again? Were those the questions he wanted to ask but promised himself not to?

"I just- I don't understand. But then again, does it even matter if I understand or not."

"It does to me."

"Why?" his voice was challenging.

"Because you're… You're my friend." She struggled for words. She was angry with herself. _A friend_. That's the best she could do? Why she couldn't afford to say all the things she wanted to say to him, all the things he deserved to hear from her.

She knew why. Decisions were already made. That's why. It seemed as if lately every decision she had made no longer made sense to her. She was losing herself in the process and sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she wondered, who was the person looking back at her.

"Heh," he scoffed, "A friend." The way he was looking at her, she knew he wondered the same thing.

"Me being at the press conference-" she started.

"Alicia, it's okay," his tone softened, like it did every time he uttered her name. She could never admit the chill that ran up her spine by his simple pronunciation of her name. "It's not like your friend," he emphasized the friend part, "haven't seen you at his press conferences before."

Perhaps it was better if he believed she had given Peter another chance, that she enjoyed being Mrs. State's Attorney, soon perhaps enjoying the status of Mrs. Governor, or if he thought she was simply power-hungry, cunning, manipulative, all the things she was sure he never thought of her before, than to admit her ego stood in the way and demanded a payback for Kresteva's lies. When did she become so petty and resentful? When did she put her ego above everything and everyone? She could defend herself by saying she was supporting Peter for greater and better cause, stopping Kresteva from winning, but did she truly believe that herself? She used to have a good moral compass, she thought, but lately she didn't know if it was set correctly.

"And if you worry, don't. There will be no calls, no voice messages left on your phone this time."

His words moved something in her. They were not spoken in a resentful manner, he never resented her anything, but as much as he was trying to hide brokenness in his voice, he couldn't conceal it. If there were times, and there were plenty of those, when she selfishly ignored his words, convinced herself that she was not hurting him, that everything was light and simple between them, she realized now just how wrong she was. It mattered to him.

Seconds later he moved pass her, grabbed notes from the coffee table and said, "Your notes." His voice was dismissive, not cold, just dismissive, wanting her to go.

"Good luck tomorrow at court," he said as he offered her the notes he was holding.

She looked at him, then the offered notes, not being able to take it from him. It dawned on her that these notes were not just notes anymore.

They represented memories of Georgetown, their friendship, light discussions on legal matters, finishing of each other sentences, mutual respect, stolen looks across the table, the night spent in presidential suite and so much more. They were the last remaining link between them. It sounded foolish but it seemed as if everything they meant to each other now depended on few sheets of paper. If she took them, everything between them would be lost. And she didn't want to lose him. Whether as a law school friend, which was great simplification of their relationship back then, whether as a boss, who always looked out for her more than was probably appropriate for employer-employee relationship, or a lover, who awoke in her the fire and passion she no longer thought existed, and especially not as a man who she...

Until this very moment she didn't want to see how selfish and callous she had been. She couldn't blame Diane when that classy blonde reproached her for wanting to accept Canning's offer, when Lockhart & Gardner were the ones that came to her rescue when she needed help and gave her an opportunity for a new start, a new life. She selfishly forgot Will voted for her, making sure she got the job, when in reality some other woman, who probably needed a job as much as she did, should have got it.

She spent weeks chasing the past. She demanded a raise so she could buy an old house, buy her old life back. Even though she didn't buy the house she still agreed to support Peter and in a way, whether she accepted it or not, she already decided to give an old life another chance.

She was on a path of a good wife again. That's who she was after all. She hated when people referred to her as _Saint Alicia – State's Attorney's Good Wife_, although she did really little to tarnish this image and she couldn't blame no-one else but herself people had this opinion of her. She wanted to be so much more than just a good wife and mother. He showed her that. He showed her everything. _Will_.

"No, I don't need them. You keep them," she declined the notes.

"I thought you wanted them," he sounded unnerved as he started walking to the door, obviously a cue for her to leave.

"Not anymore," she followed him, not opposing him.

"Fine," he opened a door for her.

"I'll be seeing you?" she asked hopefully as she stepped over threshold, looking back at him, although realizing how meaningless the question sounded after the intense conversation they just had.

He didn't answer her last futile attempt of making things right. "I hope it works out for you," he said earnestly, looking her directly in the eyes, "I really do."

She opened her mouth to speak but obviously for him the conversation was over as he said, "Goodnight, Alicia."

A moment later she no longer looked in his eyes, instead her eyes met apartment door slowly closing in front of her.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for taking the time to read this story and thank you for all the inspiring reviews. It means a lot,<br>_

_PenWriterPen_


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